


swansong

by Ethereally, puppysicle



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Broken Engagement, Dehumanization, Eye Trauma, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medical, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26773780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally, https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppysicle/pseuds/puppysicle
Summary: The ring slips off easily. It’s looser than it was when he first got it, and he wonders if Dimitri sees him the way he sees himself in the mirror—pale, eyes sunken, haunted by the spectre of what the two of them had once been.Felix doesn't stay. The ghosts of their history don't leave him, either.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 24
Kudos: 45
Collections: Dimilix Big Bang





	swansong

**Author's Note:**

> i want to highlight that none of this would have been possible without my lovely, wonderful artist [ysab](https://twitter.com/puppysicle), whose art carries the entire story. please go and check her out: it was an honor to do a pinch-hit centered around her beautiful work.
> 
> there is a scene in the middle of the fic that can be read as either self-harm or suicide. self-harm was the intention, but i kept both tags in to be cautious. please take care when reading this fic - it's a heavy one.

Felix doesn’t run from fights.

He’s catalogued the things he’ll need from their home. Some clothes, some shoes, a pocket knife. All that’s easy enough to grab; what he needs sits in a laundry hamper that he’s been adding to over the week. He wonders if Dimitri’s noticed that his black turtlenecks and ripped jeans aren’t strewn across the floor, or if he’s too self-centered to care. Felix doesn’t like the implications of either answer. He slings the hamper across his shoulder, squinting through daybreak’s haze. 

Their studio feels hauntingly empty, cloaked in shadow and city lights. Anxiety twists through his gut. He’s certain he’s forgetting something. A letter-filled shoebox peeks out from under their bed, and Felix jerks his gaze away. Their Nintendo Switch sits in its dock by their television. Felix can’t sneak that with him, not when Dimitri’s in charge of their Animal Crossing island. An ornamental sword hangs on the wall-- an engagement gift from his dad. Felix casts it a scornful glare. 

That’s not coming with him, either. 

He marches towards the closet door and slides it open. The creaking sound of the wheels makes Felix jump, but Dimitri barely stirs. A fireproof bag with Felix’s documents sits at the back, and Felix throws his laptop and charger in. He tucks it under his arm. Almost done. He grits his teeth, grabbing the golden band on his ring finger to yank it off. 

The ring slips off easily. It’s looser than it was when he first got it, and he wonders if Dimitri sees him the way he sees himself in the mirror—pale, eyes sunken, haunted by the ghost of what the two of them had once been. The spectre of their naive laughter still rings in his ears, and Felix clicks his tongue, willing it to vanish. Fucking rich, when he’s always telling Dimitri to stop talking to spirits. 

His gaze flickers to the bedside table, then back to the ring in his hand. Felix sighs and slips the band into his pocket. His fist clenches so tightly that his nails dig into his flesh.

Dimitri’s breaths are even, his chest rising and falling as he slumbers. A small, stupid smile is etched on his lips. Felix knows it’ll be gone when Dimitri wakes up in the morning. Guilt twists in his chest, a sore, wrenching sensation that starts in his heart and spreads through his ribcage. He swallows the lump in his throat, the words that he wishes he could bring himself to say.

_You’ll wake Dimitri up if you sob. What are you, a child?_

Annette’s expecting him at her flat any time now. Felix takes a deep breath, stepping through the door and shutting the door behind him. He’s not the type to run from fights, but there are some battles that can’t be won when he’s on their side. Sharp words bitterly snarled, harsh truths bluntly spoken—that’s all he’s good for, and that’s not what Dimitri needs anymore. Felix spits acid from his lips, and Dimitri’s been burned once too often for his comfort. 

He allows the tears to fall once he gets into the Uber. The driver swerves through the winding London streets, dropping him off outside a small flat in Kensington. Annette’s standing outside with curled hair and a small smile, and she pulls Felix down into a wordless hug. 

Ingrid and Sylvain will kill him in the morning. He doesn’t want to imagine the impending state of his inbox; he won’t bother to charge his phone. Besides, Felix doesn’t run from fights. He slips away.

*

Dimitri brought Felix to a rose garden to propose. He told Felix to dress up, mentioning it was a special occasion. He packed a picnic basket with beef sandwiches and charcuterie hams and drove the two of them for miles, crossing sprawling grasslands till they reached Kent’s outskirts. Felix initially scoffed at the idea, muttering that he wasn’t some sweet maiden to be wined and dined, but his tone shifted when Dimitri laid their mat down in a quiet clearing.

Felix was just starting to dig into the brie cheese when Dimitri pulled out a pair of matching golden rings. He recalls how Dimitri’s eyes brimmed with hope and excitement, and the softness of his tone when he popped the question.

“Will you be mine?” 

Felix’s lips parted with shock then. He recalls how he’d blinked back tears, how he hadn’t been able to stop himself from grinning. How warmth spread from his chest through his veins, his lungs, his gut, capturing him in an embrace stronger than any force he’d battled before. Felix grabbed Dimitri’s cheeks, pulling him down in a deep, languid kiss. 

“What do you think? Don’t be stupid,” he murmured, words barbed and sweet like the roses that bloomed around them. “I’ll marry you. Fool,” Felix said, planting a kiss to Dimitri’s forehead, then his lips. Dimitri smelled like wine and blue cheese, but it didn’t matter. Not when Felix felt like he could swell with joy, not when it felt like the world had collapsed around them and it was just him, Dimitri, and the summer sun. 

Dimitri beamed back, wiping tears from his eyes. He slipped the ring on Felix’s finger. The metal felt foreign and cold on his skin. It glinted in the sun’s glow, golden like its warmth. 

It’s only been two years since Dimitri proposed, but it feels like another lifetime. Felix can’t remember the last time they’d been that happy. He winces at the memory, slamming the lights shut in Annette’s guest room before passing out.

*

Annette brings Felix breakfast in bed the next morning. She greets him with a gentle smile, carefully balancing the tray of eggs and bacon on the edge of his mattress. Felix grunts and turns around to face her. She leans in to brush strands of tousled hair from his face.

“What happened?”

Felix stares blankly. Annette blinks back at him with her wide blue eyes. He scrambles to sit cross-legged on his pillow, shifting so she has space to join him. She doesn’t push Felix for an answer when he tucks into the food, shoveling his scrambled eggs into his mouth with great gusto. 

Annette places a hand on his shoulder when he’s done. He lets her. 

She doesn’t press when Felix lets out a litany of curses, unleashes strings of swear words damning Dimitri’s name. She rubs circles on Felix’s back as obscenities fall from his lips, Felix half-laughing, almost-crying at the realization that it’s over, it’s over. His engagement is over. Tears well up in Felix’s eyes, but can’t bring themselves to spill. She squeezes Felix’s hand once he’s done speaking.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Do you need some time alone?”

“I don’t _need_ anything,” he sputters, which Annette knows is a reluctant yes. She gets up from the bed, and doesn’t comment on the strained, desperate sob that escapes Felix’s throat. The door clicks shut, and Felix finally allows the tears to spill.

He can’t tell her about the night he found Dimitri slumped over his desk with blood streaming down his face. How it poured across his skin, dripping onto the table’s rosewood. A knife lay limp and lifeless in his fiancee’s hand. Felix recalls how he screamed with horror, rushing up to shake Dimitri, to ask if this was some sort of sick joke. Dimitri had turned to Felix, slow and agonizing, voice cracking like a spectre’s from a horror film.

“Help,” Dimitri begged. Felix grabbed his car keys, and rushed out the door. 

The drive to the hospital was long and agonizing, and Felix spent the whole time fretting over if he should have called an ambulance instead. Dimitri’s stuttered, rasping apologies stabbed Felix in the gut; his face was gaunt, voice lifeless as he held a washcloth to his bleeding eye. Felix rushed into the emergency room with a desperate cry, and all he could do was stare at Dimitri, horrified, wondering if there was anything he could have done to make things better.

*

“Felix, are you upset with me?”

Dimitri’s tone was even, trained. He addressed his fiance with a gentle smile, one that didn’t reach his single blue eye. A patch covered the other. Felix hated it. 

He hated how Dimitri calmly uncrossed his legs, placing his hands on his lap. He hated how Dimitri leaned against the back of their couch, expression unchanging, awfully calm for someone who’d broached this topic. Behind that genial smile lay torrents of emotion that Felix couldn’t hope to reach out and grasp; a sea of anger, waves of hurt. Every calm greeting, every strained hello was a reminder that Felix couldn’t do enough, would never do enough. 

Felix narrowed his eyes.

“What do you think?”

The words spilled from his lips, harsher and sharper than Felix intended. There was no taking them back. Dimitri nodded, betraying no emotion. He grabbed the steaming mug of tea Felix left him, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. Chamomile with two spoonfuls of sugar, Dimitri’s favorite. 

Or at least, Felix thought it was Dimitri’s favorite. He wasn’t sure if he knew who Dimitri was any more. 

Felix gritted his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fist. _I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me what to protect you from_ , he wanted to say, but the words failed to form on his tongue; they emerged instead as a dismissive snort. Dimitri set down the bright red mug and sighed. 

“I’m sorry if I messed this up. I should have said something earlier, but I didn’t want to burden you with the weight of my proble—”

“Stop spouting nonsense,” Felix hissed. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, surveying Dimitri closely, watching his face for any hint of emotion. Nothing. Red-hot anger twisted in his gut. Felix watched Dimitri as he glanced away, desperately hoping for the slightest eyebrow twitch, the smallest shift in demeanor. Yet he sat there, calm and relaxed, addressing Felix like they were talking about the weather.

“I should be the one to make it up to you—”

“Shut up.” 

Silence befell the two of them. These conversations always went this way. Felix would have thought he was used to Dimitri’s constant deflecting at this point, but each tender smile made this even harder. 

As usual, Dimitri was the first one to break the silence.

“Felix, you don’t have to blame yourself for this, you know. Anything that transpired was not your fault. It was mi—”

“Shut _up_ ,” Felix repeated, marching up to Dimitri and grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt. His eyes narrowed, and he pulled Dimitri in closer. Panic flooded through Dimitri’s single eye as Felix hissed. He stiffened, lips parting with horror, but red-hot anger flooded through Felix, so much that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Their noses were almost touching in a mockery of an embrace, and Felix practically spat in Dimitri’s face. “Stop—you better fucking stop saying that—”

Felix paused, eyes flying wide open. He’d gone too far and he knew it. Dimitri gaped back at him with shock, and Felix stumbled backwards: he’d fucked up. _He’d fucked up, and he knew it._

An apology would have been the right thing then. It would have been the best possible way to resolve it. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak it out loud, to materialize the truth: that there was nothing he could say to help Dimitri, nothing he could do to make it better. Tears brimmed in his fiance’s eye, and Felix did the only thing he could do. He took action. He pulled Dimitri in closer, sealing the space between the two of them with a soft, languid kiss.

*

The tension was suffocating.

Dimitri’s smiles deflected Felix’s questions. Felix answered them with acerbic jabs. Most of their conversations began with Felix inquiring and Dimitri assuring him that everything was okay, and ended in Felix snapping while Dimitri unleashed a litany of apologies. Felix couldn’t recall the last time they’d had a conversation that ended in something other than one-sided yelling, followed by the stinging realization that Dimitri wasn’t going to be okay. Dimitri seemed to get paler, more gaunt with each passing day.

Felix knew he was the cause.

There was nothing he could do to stop Dimitri’s crying in the bathroom, and how Dimitri muffled his sobs, hoping Felix couldn’t hear. Felix couldn’t stop Dimitri’s loud shout of rage, and how he’d return home to Dimitri sweeping up porcelain, shattering glass. It was as though his old love, his old friend was breaking apart in front of him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Dimitri had built an impenetrable wall between the two of them, and Felix couldn’t slash his way through it. Every blow he attempted made the situation so much worse.

The two of them sat on opposite ends of the table for dinner that night. Felix had made Gautier Cheese Gratin, which was once Dimitri’s favorite; though Felix had overheard Dimitri telling his doctor that he’d lost his sense of taste on the phone. Had it returned? Felix wasn’t sure he even knew basic facts about his fiance anymore.

Dimitri made a great show of tucking into the food. He took in big mouthfuls of the dish, taking great care to praise the pulled pork and the barbecue sauce, the soft, warm, goopy texture of the cheese. Felix narrowed his eyes, trying his best to hold in the red-hot anger that boiled up in his chest; Dimitri’s compliments felt saccharine, contrived, as artificial as the American cheese he’d melted. He clenched his teeth, putting his spoon down and getting up from his seat. Dimitri stared back at him.

“Ah, Felix, are you not hungry?”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Felix seethed. _It’s you I’m worried about_ , he wanted to say, but there was no point. Not when it would be futile. He grabbed his bowl, marching towards the sink. “Eat your food.”

Dimitri set his fork down and cleared his throat. “Felix, I cannot help but feel as though I have done something horribly wrong. Will you tell me about your concerns? Not when—”

At this point, Felix was tired of explaining himself. “You know what you did.” 

“I... I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” Dimitri stuttered. “Is it because I’m ill? That’s—”

“That’s not the point,” Felix snapped. “Shut up. If I have to hear you say that one more time, I...”

“I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to read it,” Dimitri says, voice low. “I apologize for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

Felix slammed the porcelain bowl on the counter. He was shocked it didn’t break. 

“Why won’t you just—you won’t—” _you won’t communicate with me_ “You don’t—” _you don’t let me help_ —

“What am I supposed to do, act like everything is normal when you’re breaking things and hurting yourself like some sort of savage beast?” 

Dimitri’s lips parted with shock. Felix felt as though someone had stabbed him in the chest. 

_I’m making everything worse, aren’t I?_

The realization sent shockwaves coursing through him, sparking panic through Felix’s veins. Felix stepped backwards, gaze still locked with Dimitri’s in horror.

*

Once the thought crossed Felix’s mind, it was increasingly hard to push it out. Every interaction with Dimitri that ended in screaming brought the reminder back, and each conversation they had only seemed to deepen the chasm between them. Felix felt as though the invisible, impenetrable barrier that Dimitri had built becoming larger and larger. And Felix had to watch Dimitri turn into someone else he barely knew behind it—a bubbling pit of rage and hurt hidden behind a sweet smile.

Perhaps it was best that Dimitri shut him out.

The insults that fell from Felix’s lips grew worse and worse. It was easier to hate Dimitri than to feel like Felix was losing him; perhaps, in hindsight, it was easier for Felix to push Dimitri away. They could barely trade gazes without flinching, could barely lock eyes without Felix snarling “What do you want?” Dimitri slept out on the couch sometimes; Felix could barely bring himself to look at the pathetic figure huddled under a blanket.

Neither of them slept during those nights. They turned into worse mornings when they had to face one another before work.

Felix would come home to find new things broken. Pencils, plates, champagne glasses that Lambert had bequeathed them in preparation for their wedding. He didn’t even bother asking Dimitri if he was fine any more. They both knew the answer. Felix would sigh, click his teeth, and sweep it up before instantly launching into a tirade, hurling insults at his fiance while Dimitri choked apologies back. 

Felix woke up in the middle of the night one day to Dimitri sobbing in his sleep. He sat upright, ready to shake Dimitri into lucidity when he heard a word fall from Dimitri’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri wailed, “Felix, I’m sorry, I’ve ruined this, you’ll never love me again—”

 _This is your fault. You have to go_.

Felix gritted his teeth.

He was making the situation worse with every passing day and he knew it. There was no point arguing with Dimitri, or arguing with himself; not when him and his stupid mouth was the cause of Dimitri’s anguish. 

The next few weeks were spent covertly packing.

“You’ve seemed... even more distant lately,” Dimitri once said in a rare admission of weakness, his single eye flickering towards Felix. Felix clicked his tongue, hurriedly rearranging the sparse clothing items in their shared closet. Dimitri sat on the bed, patting the space next to him. If Felix was more of an idealist, he would say Dimitri was _yearning_.

“Will you sit with me for a while?”

Felix bit the inside of his mouth. 

_No_ was probably the kinder answer given that he was planning to pack up and go. But perhaps it was the tone of his voice that tugged at Felix’s heartstrings, or the pleading look in his gaze. Felix sighed, dropping the shirt he was holding and moving to sit by Dimitri’s side. Dimitri smiled sadly at him.

“May I move closer?”

Felix grunted back, a tacit affirmation. Dimitri shifted towards Felix, and reached out to squeeze his hand. His thumb brushed against their matching rings. Felix didn’t push him away. 

“I miss you, you know,” Dimitri said in a breathless admittance, and Felix struggled to find the words to answer.

They made love for the first time in months that night. Dimitri loomed over Felix, strong and brave and tender, pressing butterfly kisses against the nape of Felix’s chest, Felix’s neck. Felix recalls how warm Dimitri felt when their lips crushed against each other’s, how human he’d seemed when he’d whispered affirmations into Felix’s ear. How they’d locked eyes when Dimitri went down on Felix, Dimitri searching Felix for approval, for some sort of sign that things might be all right. That they might be all right.

Dimitri would wake up alone the next morning.

*

Felix plugs his phone into a charge point a week later.

He watches text messages flood across the screen, “how are yous” and “are you okays” washing over his background. Felix grimaces at the fifty-nine messages from various friends. None of them are from the person he was half-hoping, half-fearing he’d hear from. He sighs and sets his phone back down. Sylvain and Ingrid deserve at least some sort of response.

_I’m fine._

He can almost hear Sylvain sigh with relief when he gets a text back. 

_Sylvain Gautier:_ Great hearing from you. Fuck, don’t disappear on us like this again, okay? If it wasn’t for Annette we’d have thought you were dead.

Felix checks Discord next, and then Facebook Messenger, which he doesn’t even use. No sign of Dimitri. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the twisting sensation in his chest, the strange wrenching feeling combined with a wave of calm. It’s fine. Dimitri hasn’t reached out to him. It’s fine--

Felix begins to type out a text.

 _Me:_ Let me know if you want to talk.

Dimitri’s reply is instantaneous.

 _Dimitri Blaiddyd:_ Oh my gosh, yes please. When, and through what medium?

*

Felix is a fool.

That’s the only explanation for how he finds himself sitting at a quiet bar tucked away in Notting Hill, neon lighting illuminating what used to be one of their previous haunts. His gaze flickers towards the clock on his phone screen; he’s ten minutes early, but Dimitri might not arrive. Felix hails the bartender over, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“A Habanero Ginger-” Felix begins, but he’s interrupted by the sight of the door swinging open, and Dimitri walking over to sit by his side. The bartender smiles, warmth dancing in her bright brown eyes. 

“Why don’t I give the two of you more time?” she asks before returning to clean some glasses, leaving Felix and Dimitri sober and alone. 

They speak simultaneously.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are met with silence. Apologies haven’t fixed anything for them so far—there’s no use playing the blame game, no use pinning all of this on one or the other. Felix sighs, sinking back into his chair. Dimitri’s still wearing his gold ring around his neck. The dark circles around his eyes have intensified, making him look like he’s aged ten years in the last week. He sighs.

“I... I’d like to make this work. I know I cannot flip a switch and start over, but can we—”

“No,” Felix says. An apology lodges itself in his throat. He says something that almost comes close. “I shouldn’t have left without saying anything.”

Quiet falls across them once again. Felix wonders if he should say more, or hail the bartender over for a drink instead. He does neither. Finally, Dimitri leans in, voice hoarse and eye brimming with want. 

“I know we can’t just start over. But, tell me.”

Dimitri clears his throat, speaking the words Felix was hoping he’d hear:

“Will you come home?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to [ciry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark) and [tam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius) for proofreading!!
> 
> we're on twitter @gautired and @puppysicle. if you enjoyed this [fic](https://twitter.com/gautired/status/1312055747476242435?s=20) or the [art](https://twitter.com/puppysicle/status/1312056212800696326?s=20), give them a retweet!


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